Criminally Vulgar
by ironia-vitae
Summary: Bradley lingers in Camp New Grace after Butters has left, and is paired up with a sour new arrival, whose rebelliousness inspires the seeds of courage Butters planted in Bradley's heart to take root and begin to grow. South Park/I Luv Halloween crossover.
1. Chapter 1

Criminally Vulgar

A/N: This is an I Luv Halloween/South Park crossover. Just to clarify. Anyway, please enjoy.

Chapter 1-

He was unlike any other newcomer Camp New Grace had ever seen before. He was gruff, quiet, and suspicious of all that went on around him. Bradley didn't know quite what to think of him when the counselor introduced him as his new accountabilibuddy. As rules, schedules, and other welcoming spiels were rattled off to him, the new kid merely looked around the room, disinterested. His gaze finally fell on Bradley, and their eyes locked. There was an odd look in the stranger's stare that unnerved him.

"Bradley, this is Nathan Swift." Bradley attempted a smile. Nathan blinked. "If there's anything you need, Nathan, you ask Bradley. Remember, lights out at 9:30." The counselor left them standing in the room. Both were silent, still eyeing each other warily. Nathan was a couple years older than himself, possibly twelve or thirteen, Bradley guessed. Red hair fell over Nathan's face, shielding most of his eyes from view. An overwhelming sense of vulnerability caught Bradley off-guard. He cleared his throat, pushing his nerves aside.

"Hey, Nathan."

"Don't call me that." The voice was low and almost raspy. "No one calls me that. I'm Finch." He tossed his backpack, his only luggage, on the empty top bunk and climbed up. He sat on the mattress, letting his spindly legs hang over the side of the frame. "_Accountabilibuddies_, huh?"

"…Yeah."

"Finch" sighed, looking around the room again. As put-off as Bradley was by "Finch's" reply, he took comfort in the fact that at least now he could see the other boy's face. His eyes were blue, Bradley noted. _Blue like Butters'._ He dropped his gaze, lifting a hand up to his mouth. Thinking of Butters still hurt, and it was enough to slip him back into old habits.

"How the hell do people survive this place?"

Bradley glanced upwards again. "A lot of us don't." Finch's face was stoic.

"So the rumors are true."

Bradley was surprised. "There are rumors?"

"How could there not be, with so many deaths coming out of this place?"

"So then why don't they get sued? Or at least media coverage?"

"They consider them unfortunate side-effects. Technically, they're not doing anything 'wrong' here. I guess brainwashing doesn't count." Finch's voice was flippant. He laid down on the bed, resting his foot on his flexed knee and folding his arms behind his head. Bradley decided he didn't like this newcomer. He was the opposite to everything Butters was. Bradley winced at the memory. He decided to get ready for bed, feebly calling out directions to the bathrooms to Finch, who followed shortly after. Back in the room after dressing in pajamas, Bradley said his prayers, climbed into his bunk, and curled up, trying (unsuccessfully) not to think of Butters.

Above him, Finch lay awake quietly, still a little disoriented from the fact that he was actually at Camp New Grace. It had been his mother's idea. How could she have known, though? He only saw him once a year, and his mom had never met him. Maybe she had taken his friends' jibes seriously? Maybe Moochie was more perceptive than he ever dreamed, and had unwittingly spilled the raw truth to their mother? Or maybe he acted gay? How _does_ one act gay? He pondered until fatigue from the long car ride overtook him.

/


	2. Chapter 2

Criminally Vulgar

Chapter 2-

By the next morning, Bradley had decided that "Finch's" hostility was merely his apprehension and aversion to being brought to Camp New Grace manifesting itself. He would give him a second chance.

Unfortunately, Finch didn't seem too keen on a fresh start. He was just as unpleasant in the morning as he was the night before. Actually, he was less talkative, but his passive-aggression was made apparent in the grunts he used to answer any of Bradley's attempts at conversation. Bradley soon gave the effort up.

Hope was rekindled, however, by a therapy counselor assigning one-on-one discussions between accountabilibuddies. Surely this would open up communication, thought Bradley, and he thus had high hopes for the activity. They seated themselves in one corner of the room, with Bradley holding the list of discussion topics and questions given them by the counselor. Finch sat across from him, pulling on he rough material of his new camp shirt.

"Okay, so…" Bradley read off the first question on the paper: " 'Consider the quote, 'Temptation is attractive.' What does this mean to you personally?'"

Finch was silent. For a long time. Bradley waited.

"Do you want me to go first…?"

"I want you to shut up." The reply was soft, but icy, and seething with enmity. Bradley stopped dead and stared at him.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Again, his voice was barely above a whisper. His eyes were trained away from him, hiding behind his bangs again.

"Nathan, I don't know why—"

"How many times do I have to tell you, I'm _not_ Nathan. I haven't been "Nathan" in years. I'm Finch." He bit the words out. His belligerent edge was beginning to get to Bradley.

"Look, I know this is hard, but you're not making it any easier."

"I'm not making it anything, because I refuse to put up with it."

Bradley just stared. What was with this guy? "Okay, then you ask me questions." He tried handing the paper to Finch, who made no effort to grab the page, and it fluttered uselessly to the ground. Neither boy moved for a while. "The whole point of this exercise is for us to open up to each other."

"Maybe I don't want to open up to you. Did you ever think of that?"

"What is your problem?" Bradley finally asked, his aggravation bleeding into his voice. "All you've done since you got here was make snarky comments and push me away."

"Good. Right on schedule."

"Nathan—"

"Are you deaf? I said—"

"I don't care what you said, _Nathan_."

"You call me that one more time, and you will regret it." Bradley was indignant.

"Are you threatening me now?"

"No, I'm promising you."

Bradley rose. He had to get away. Nothing good would come of their tempers flying off the handle. He muttered something about the bathroom, and took off. In the men's room, he tried soothing is frustration with calming breaths and tried to remind himself that Finch was new, and just wasn't adjusting well, and that he might as well try to get along with him because they were accountabilibuddies. Oh God, how would he survive with Finch as his accountabilibuddy? Surely one of them would kill the other before long.

Well, as long as they were going to hell, anyway…

/


	3. Chapter 3

Criminally Vulgar

Chapter 3-

Finch had been at New Grace for barely a week when he and Bradley got word of another new arrival. The camp buzzed about it for a while, and then they were gathered around the front drive to welcome their new member. They watched the car circle the carpool, and a stocky, red-haired woman stepped out, waddling to the trunk to retrieve her son's luggage. From the back seat, a short boy kicked the door open and dragged himself out dejectedly. _This_, Bradley thought, _is how a camper here should look._ He glanced at Finch beside him, who stared ahead as stonily as usual. _Not like this guy._ Bradley shifted his gaze back to the new kid, eyes drawn to the striking green hat he wore. The counselors pushed their way to the front of the crowd, ready to receive their newest resident.

"Hello there, young man," said one, leaning down on a knee and laying a hand on the boy's shoulder, who only stared at it morosely. "What's your name?"

The answering voice sounded miserable and deplete of life. "Kyle Broflovski." It did nothing to dampen the counselor's seeming enthusiasm. He turned to the gaggle of boys on the curb.

"Let's give Kyle a warm Camp New Grace welcome!" The welcome he received was mumbled, and matched Kyle's own lackluster. His mother came up beside the counselor, setting the bags she carried down carefully.

"Thank you so much for taking him." The counselor stood.

"Don't worry- your son is in good hands." Kyle stared at his shoes glumly. Bradley felt a pang of sympathy for him- he knew exactly what kind of hands he was in, and didn't blame him for looking so down. He watched on as Kyle was hugged and kissed goodbye before his mother climbed back into the van and drove away. He was left alone on the drive, standing in front of the crowd of blue-shirted campers and counselors. If possible, his frown seemed to deepen.

Bradley and Finch didn't see Kyle again until small group discussion time after worship. The counselor in charge, an optimistic young man, stood up and cleared his throat to get his group's attention.

"As you may know, we are joined by a new camper today. Everyone, please say hello to Kyle!"

"Hi, Kyle," they droned. Kyle managed a wave and a tedious half-smile.

"Since Kyle is new, we're going to start discussion off with quick introductions. Kyle, why don't you go first?"

"Uh, I'm Kyle Broflovski…" The counselor nodded, pressing for more. "I'm ten years old, and I like the color green." Bradley noted that his hat was still on, clashing with the blue of his camp shirt. The counselor asked the other boys to go around the circle, giving their name, age, and something they like. The introductions made their way around to Bradley.

"I'm Bradley," he mumbled, hand itching to come up to his mouth. "I'm ten, and I like…" He struggled with what to say. _Not Butters._ "…pizza." The counselor nodded and called out to Finch, who sat slumped next to Bradley.

"Nathan, how about you?"

"My name is Finch- _not_ Nathan. I'm thirteen, and I'd _like_ to get out of this hellhole." The counselor stared at him incredulously, and he continued just as dryly, "But it doesn't look like that'll happen anytime soon." He had the attention of the entire group, and more than a few of the boys were looking at him as if he were a prophet sent to speak the words they dare not say themselves. Bradley, however, saw the counselor's face twist into an indignant rage.

"Nathan, I _will not_ tolerate such insolence!"

Finch held his hands up in lethargic surrender. "My bad."

"We're going to focus on why we are here, for that smart little comment and because Kyle is new." There was a collective groan from the group. The counselor paid them no mind. "You are here," he continued loftily, "because you all are confused." He swept a pointed finger around the group. "But know that God does not want you to be confused. He wants you to be straight, and live a normal, happy life."

Bradley inwardly scoffed- like you couldn't be gay and live a normal, happy life. But even as he thought that, he wondered just what it would be like to live out. Would people leave well enough alone, or would hate follow him like a shadow? Or would he find support?

"Kyle, do you know what the New Testament says about homosexuals?"

"No."

"Why not?" The question was open, not condescending, so as to encourage discussion about forging a relationship with God.

"Because I'm Jewish," Kyle said flatly. Bradley could see him almost flush while meeting the counselor's eyes with a steady look. The counselor, however, looked a bit off-balance. This obviously wasn't the answer he was looking for.

"O-Oh, well…"

"Why the hell did your mom send you to a Catholic gay camp if you're Jewish?" Finch asked. Kyle's brow knitted and he shot a glare at Finch.

"Because she wanted me cured, dumbass!"

The counselor snapped back to action. "We do not allow such language here at Camp—"

"Like you can _cure_ homosexuality. That's a load of bullshit," Finch interrupted, ignoring the counselor's admonishments.

"Now wait a—"

"That's what I told my mom, but she didn't listen!"

"Sucks for you."

"Damn right, it does! Sucks for all of us!"

"THAT'S IT!" The counselor yelled. Apparently, he had reached his breaking point. "Both of you, and your accountabilibuddies, go see the director!"

Kyle's face fell a little, and he feebly objected, "But sir, I don't have an—"

"I don't care! Just go!"

The three boys walked down the empty halls with their tails between their legs; except for Finch, who looked more peeved that they had been sent to the authority than anything. The distant medley of hymns and sermons was broken only by the sound of their shuffling footsteps. The melancholy near-silence was stifling to Bradley, and he decided to speak up.

"Sorry your first day had to be this crappy," he said to Kyle.

"That's okay," Kyle sighed. "It's my own fault, anyway."

Bradley shot Finch a cursory glare. "Not if you hadn't been provoked." Finally, Finch turned to him, blank stare abandoned for a quirked eyebrow, as if to say "So I'm the bad guy now?" Kyle shook his head.

"I would have snapped eventually." Another stifling silence. "I can't make it through this camp."

Bradley looked at him, eyes wide with horror. "You can't be serious. You haven't even been here a full day!"

"I know. But there's no way they can get me to believe this shit. They'll have to let me go sooner or later." Visible relief shot through Bradley.

"So you aren't thinking of…" Kyle turned to him, innocent and quizzical.

"Of what?"

They had approached the office, and Finch grabbed the handle, looking sidelong at Kyle. "You don't know?" He opened the door and went inside, followed by Bradley.

"Know what?" Kyle prodded, but his question was forgotten under the director's eye. They stood side-by-side, like ducks in a shooting range. Bradley and Kyle seemed to want to shrink into the floor, and Finch kept his usual look of apathetic disdain. The older man opened his mouth with a loud smack.

"I understand that your group leader will be joining us shortly, boys," he said simply, authoritatively. Bradley's fingers rose to his lips, Kyle stared at his feet, and Finch gave the room a lazy once-over. The group leader came in the door, apparently still very upset with them.

"Director, these three were causing a lot of disruption during group time. They were using vulgar language, ignoring my authority, and resisting God's plan for them." The director looked at them in turn.

"Well, boys, what do you have to say for yourselves?"

"Sorry, sir," Kyle and Bradley muttered. Finch's contribution sounded suspiciously like "I'd do it again". Under the glares of both the director and the group leader, he changed his response to the appropriate one.

"Since you three obviously don't respect our mission here, maybe writing essays on why homosexuality is wrong would do you some good. I expect them by tomorrow evening." They relented, and were led out by the group leader, when Kyle suddenly turned around, and made his way back through the open door.

"Um, Director, sir? I don't have an accountabilibuddy." He stumbled over the unfamiliar word.

"Oh, well. John, I'm sure there are some kids needing an accountabilibuddy." The words seemed to have some morbid meaning kept between staff members, because the group leader "John" nodded grimly and ushered Kyle out. Sending Finch and Bradley back to rejoin the group, he led Kyle through the halls. They came upon another staff worker.

"Hey, Gordon, we're looking for an accountabilibuddy. Any new ones?" John asked. Gordon nodded, also grim.

"Kevin's open. Room 24."

"Thanks." Then, turning to Kyle and putting on a smile that was obviously forged, "Well, let's go get your stuff and drop it off in your new room. You can meet your accountabilibuddy at lunch." Kyle nodded, a little unsettled by the counselors' sepulchral tones.  
/


	4. Chapter 4

Criminally Vulgar

Chapter 4-

A few days later at breakfast, Bradley and Finch were nearly assaulted by a hysterical Kyle running up to them in a panicked frenzy.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!"

"What is it?" Bradley asked.

Kyle's wide eyes bored into them, his voice falling into a husky half-whisper broken by his ragged breath. "Kevin… he killed himself last night. I found him this morning… Ohh, God…" Finch returned to his cereal bowl.

"It was bound to happen." Kyle stared at him incredulously. "In case you haven't noticed, the bullshit curriculum we're on is one big, grueling guilt trip. Some people just can't take the pressure. Kevin was cracking, had been for days."

Kyle blinked at him. "Jesus Christ…!"

"I'm sorry you had to find out the hard way," Bradley said, aiming for more sympathy than Finch was offering.

"I don't have an accountabilibuddy anymore," Kyle said bluntly.

"It happens a lot. You'll get another one soon." Kyle sat down heavily on the seat next to Bradley, resting his head in his hands.

"I _really_ don't think I can take this camp, not if you wake up to find people hung." His voice cracked on the last word. Bradley gave him a tentative pat on the shoulder, simultaneously trying to be comforting while trying not to create an awkward feeling between them. Kyle seemed dead to the gesture, however. He barely touched his food that morning.

That very same day, another new camper arrived. Once again, a group of campers were rounded up on the drive to welcome him. Kyle opted to stand next to Bradley and Finch, feeling alone and out-of-place without an accountabilibuddy. As the boy got out of the car, Finch's features snapped into a look of surprise and disbelief.

"You're shitting me…" He whispered. Bradley and Kyle's curiosity aroused, they looked between Finch and the new boy, a short, stocky brunette with freckles splashed over his cheeks. He apparently caught Finch's incredulous stare and waved at him timidly.

"Everyone, this is Alex Spiegel," the counselor greeting them announced. "Please make him feel welcome to Camp New Grace."

Alex's parents' car drove away, and the counselors were rounding the campers back inside. Finch broke away from the group and headed for Alex. Bradley and Kyle exchanged a confused glance before following him dumbly.

"Mind telling me how the hell you ended up here?" Finch was asking Alex, who merely shrugged.

"My mom heard about it from yours. I guess she was afraid that I'm gay, and sent me, too." Finch folded his arms over his chest and looked at him critically.

" 'You guess' she was 'afraid.' " Alex shrugged again.

"Yeah. …S'not like I _did_ nothin'…" he added defensively. Finch sighed. Kyle spoke up.

"You know each other?"

"Yeah. From the same town," Finch answered.

"You boys come on inside," called a counselor from the door. They did as they were told. "Hey, Kyle, you're Kevin's accountabilibuddy, right?"

"Well… I _was_…"

"Perfect!" the counselor responded brightly. "Alex can be your new accountabilibuddy. Show him to your room before you head to lunch, okay?" With that, he headed off down the hall.

"…Accounta-_what_?" Alex asked.

"Accountabilibuddy," Finch said. "They basically follow you like a dog." Bradley frowned at him.

"It's a two-way deal, you know."

"I never agreed to any 'deal'."

"This is a mistake," Alex said dumbly, his luggage heavy in his hands. "I'm not supposed to be here."

"Too bad. You're here now."

Bradley turned to confront Finch. "You're quite the pessimist, you know that? Do you enjoy being unbearably negative or something?"

"More so than these fruity worship services, yeah."

Kyle cleared his throat. "I think we all agree that none of us wants to be here. But we are here, so we're gonna have to deal with it. Peacefully. Alright?" Bradley and Finch backed down, although still visibly miffed. Kyle turned to Alex. "Uhh, hi. I'm Kyle. You know Finch, and that's Bradley." Alex raised an eyebrow at Finch.

"Why aren't they calling you 'Nathan'?"

"_They_ still do. Those who aren't complete shitheads know better." He received a dangerous look from Bradley. Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Okay, I'm not gonna get involved in this. I'm going back to my room. You coming, Alex?" Alex nodded, and followed Kyle as he started down the hall.

"You gonna correct them?" Finch called after Alex.

"Maybe I like being called 'Alex'. Maybe it's, like, refreshing after all the shit I get from you and Mr. Kitty." Finch blinked at him.

"You're always going to be 'Pig Pig' to us. You know that, right?" The boy in question sighed.

"Yeah…"

/


	5. Chapter 5

Criminally Vulgar

Chapter 5-

It was during lunch that Bradley remembered with a start that he, Kyle, and Finch still had to write that essay for the director by that night. The four of them headed to Kyle's dorm room, so they could bounce ideas off of each other and so Alex (whom Finch insisted on calling "Pig Pig") could unpack his stuff. The three writing sat at the wooden table at the end of the room with two Bibles between them. Kyle swung his feet, looking down at his blank sheet of notebook paper.

"Okay, so…what are we supposed to write?"

"God hates fags," Finch said haltingly, pretending to write the words on his paper. "I am a fag. I should die."

"Finch, be serious," Bradley sighed harshly. Kyle dropped his head on the desk with a loud bump.

"Why didn't I pay more attention in Hebrew school?"

"Would that really help you now?" Finch questioned, to which Kyle responded with a "shut up" muffled by the tabletop. Bradley, however, offered some of his memorized verses.

"Well, 1 Corinthians 6:9 has this list of people, like robbers and adulterers and stuff, who shall not inherit the kingdom of God, and practicing homosexuals are on that list. So I guess say that, and then explain that homosexual feelings lead to practicing it, so it's wrong."

"This is insane," Alex said, dropping down on the edge of his bunk in a stupor. As he stared blankly at the wall, the other three began writing their essays. "I'm not even gay," he continued after a long while, dazedly. Finch turned to him, peeved.

"Do you think it matters anymore? You're here, I'm here, neither of us are gay, but nobody gives a fuck!"

Alex looked genuinely confused. "But I thought… What about Devil—"

"Shut up!" Finch snapped, whipping back around to violently scratch more words he didn't believe onto his page. After a few fragile moments of silence, Kyle suddenly flung his pencil down on the table, and buried his face in his arms.

"I feel like such a fucking hypocrite!" The other boys stopped dead and stared at him. "I don't think being gay is bad, I don't know what the Christian Bible says about it, but they're making me do all this shit anyway!…" His fingers gripped his arms tightly, digging into his shirt sleeves. There was a longer silence in which all eyes remained on Kyle. He sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just…" He peeked up at Bradley, who noted that his eyelashes looked damp. Sympathy welled up in his heart. "There's only so many times I can sing "I love Jesus" and be told I'm disgusting for g-getting crushes on guys… You know?" There was some hesitancy before the admission of liking other males. Maybe Kyle was much more outspoken than Bradley was, but he definitely saw some of himself in the other boy.

"I know."

"How do you know when you like another guy, anyway?" Alex asked. "How do you know when it's not just a…" he swallowed nervously, searching for words, "a hetero man-crush, or whatever?" Finch seemed to be ignoring the question; Bradley and Kyle, however, thought it over.

"I guess when you find them attractive… Like, beyond admiring the muscles you wish you had," said Bradley. "And when you aren't opposed to… you know…" He made a sweeping gesture, turning red. "_Doing it_ with a guy."

"For me, it's pretty much the same as when I had crushes on girls… only I have it worse for guys," Kyle added in retrospect. Finch steadily wrote his essay, staring at his paper so intensely it was obvious to even Alex that he was trying to ignore them.

"Oh," Alex said feebly, and he thought long and hard over what had been said as the other three finished their essays.  
/


	6. Chapter 6

Criminally Vulgar

Chapter 6-

A week passed, and so far all four boys had managed to stay alive in the face of Camp New Grace. Having adjusted to the daily routine, they joined the rest of their group for their regular discussion time. Counselor John stood before them to speak.

"It's come to my attention that, despite being here for an ample amount of time, a few of our newer campers have yet to admit that they are bi-curious." Finch and Alex flushed, their faces stony and nervous, respectively. "Now, understand that this is something every camper has to go through, and is the first step to recovery. You simply need to address the problem. Otherwise you'll never get any use out of the help we're offering. In order to take some pressure off, I'm going to ask everyone to admit that they're bi-curious, and make our way around the group, okay? Michael, since you're our veteran of sorts, would you start for us?"

The boy addressed stood up from his seat on the front left side of the group. He turned to face them. "I'm Michael, and I'm bi-curious," he said steadily, if not defiantly. He promptly turned back around and plopped back down into his seat. There was some weak, sporadic applause. John smiled at the group.

"See how easy it can be? Todd, you're next."

As the front rows were coming out, Bradley noticed Kyle, Alex, and Finch growing increasingly nervous. _Finch_ was nervous- visibly. The surprise almost made Bradley's head reel. He snapped out of his disbelief as his own name was called. He stood without falter, having been through this enough times.

"I'm Bradley, and I'm bi-curious," he said, hand hovering near his mouth. He slumped back into his seat, and watched as Kyle stood hesitantly.

"I'm Kyle," he said softly, "And I…" A flush crept up his neck, maybe from faces of certain people that popped up in his mind, Bradley speculated. "I'm bi-curious." He finished with a shrug in his voice, as if finally letting down a façade and letting himself hear the truth from his own lips. He was rewarded with more clapping littered throughout the group.

"Good job, Kyle," John said warmly. As he sat back down, Kyle caught Bradley's part-congratulatory, part-supportive smile. He smiled back. Then they both looked at Alex, who seemed ready to either cry, faint, or puke.

"Come on and stand up, Alex," said John. Bradley and Kyle whispered encouragements and ushered him onto his feet. He looked fleetingly at Finch, who gave no sign of seeing anything but the back of the chair in front of him. Alex sighed loudly.

"I-I'm Alex, and…" The look of tortured nausea doubled. "I-I…" He broke off, chewing his lip and gripping his elbow. A few more pleas were said, some from John and some from other campers. Finally, Alex gulped down his nausea, instead opting to sport bright red cheeks. "I'm… bi-curious," he muttered. Another round of applause chased Alex hastily back into his seat, where Bradley and Kyle offered words of comfort. He kept sneaking glances at Finch, though, who still stared into the back of the chair. He stared for a long time as quiet fell over the group.

"Nathan… we're waiting," said John. Finch still stared.

"Come on, dude," Alex whispered to him, his voice gentler than Finch had ever heard it before. This coming out thing had a way of humbling people. "Just… say it." Finch mulled his words over, and finally stood, somber and dignified, looking John in the eye.

"I'm _Finch_," he said strongly, clearly, "And I _am_ bi-curious." He returned to his seat with poise, letting his chin rest in laced fingers contemplatively. No one knew how to react to his implicit challenge to the counselor. He was calm and collected, and completely unlike how any other camper New Grace had ever turned out. It boggled Bradley's mind. He could only imagine such tough skin, such rouge audacity, such august power of will stemming from some sort of traumatic childhood struggle, in which one had to grow up far too much, to far too fast. It sobered Bradley's former disregard of his accountabilibuddy. What else lay beyond this mask of his, Bradley wondered?

During their free time after lunch, the four boys gathered in Bradley and Finch's dorm to hang out. Bradley sat on his bunk, joined by Kyle. Alex had pulled up a chair and was sitting in it backwards. Finch again opted to ignore the others, lying down in his bed, and was almost completely hidden by the elevation.

"They make us do that every now and again in groups, just say it instead of singing like we do in Chapel," Bradley was saying. "They say it does us good to admit it."

"It did, I guess," Kyle said. "But I was kind of afraid they would yell at me and tell me that it was a sin, or something." Alex swung his feet idly, listening. Bradley rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

"Augh, I hate it when they do that…!" Kyle shot him a confused glance.

"Dude, I thought you felt the most guilty about being bi-curious of all of us."

"Well, I do, but… That's because I'm Christian and Christianity condemns homosexuality. Part of me wants to agree with all the counselors, but I don't find homosexuality disgusting… Does that make sense?" He looked up at the other two boys, searching for understanding. "I don't feel that it's wrong, but I feel wrong that I don't feel it's wrong." Kyle nodded slowly.

"Yeah… yeah, I get what you're saying."

Alex brought a finger to his chin thoughtfully. "I think I got it…." He said uncertainly. Then he seemed to get his bearings and looked at Bradley more confidently. "I don't think it's disgusting, either, and that was tripping me up for the longest time. And I don't think I was ready to write myself off as fully gay, either."

"So you're bi," Bradley asked. Alex thought it over for a bit.

"Yeah," he said softly. They heard Finch roll around on his bed.

"So am I," Kyle said. "I mean, I still like girls sometimes, but I guess I just like guys better…? I dunno," He dropped his now burning face into his hands.

"There's this one guy you like more than you've ever liked any girl, huh?" Bradley said, almost knowingly. Kyle nodded, face still hidden.

"The whole situation is so fucked, though… He's my super best friend."

"Ouch… And you're not sure how he'd take knowing his best friend has a crush on him." Kyle nodded again.

"I mean… he says he's cool about people being gay and all, but… It's never been anyone this close to him. What if he finds out? What if he freaks and doesn't want to be friends anymore? I really don't want to lose him as a friend, even if that's all we'll ever be…"

Alex kicked the toe of his sneaker into the floor. "Yeah… I have this friend…" His voice dropped dramatically, and he shot several nervous glances up at the top bunk. "And, like, we're friends, but… He's so straight…"

Finch's head appeared over the side of the bed frame. "_Mr. Kitty_?" Alex turned beet red.

"Yeah! Yeah, it is!" he flustered. "Okay, now you tell me- who're _you_ curious for?" Finch fell silent again and retreated to his bed. "Tell me!" More silence.

"Dude, that's not fair. We've all been spilling our guts; it's your turn," Kyle said.

"Bet it's Devil Lad," said Alex.

"You're so sure," Finch deadpanned.

"Who else would it be?"

Another silence.

"It is."

"It is?"

"It's Devil Lad. Happy now?" This time, it was Alex who was quiet.

"It was kind of obvious."

"Oh, dear _Lord_," Finch groaned. "If it was obvious to _you_, the whole fucking town must have known!"

"Maybe I just pay attention."

"Maybe you don't."

"Maybe I know what to look for since I'm bi, too?"

"… I'm not bi."

"No?" all three boys said in unison.

"I'm just gay. I just like guys."

Bradley decided now was as good a time to try to redeem their relationship as ever. "I think… I think I do, too. Just like guys, I mean. I've never really liked any girls. I'm just not attracted to them."

"They're not so great." Well, at least he didn't contradict him. That was a start, right?

"Hey, you still have to tell us about _your_ crush," Kyle told Bradley energetically. Bradley brought his hand to his mouth and looked away shyly.

"I… It sounds kinda stupid…" But he was pressed on by Alex and Kyle. "I only knew him for, like, a day or so, before he left the camp."

"It was here?" Kyle asked. Bradley nodded. "Ooh… not the best place for that to happen."

"He was even my accountabilibuddy." He received sympathetic "oh"s and a "Man, that sucks" from Kyle and Alex. "He wasn't for being cured at all, though. Actually, his dad took him out because he was so defiant. He even gave a speech to the counselors about how if we're made in God's image and we're bi-curious, then God must be bi-curious, too." Kyle stared at him.

"What was his name?"

"Butters." The name still sounded beyond heavenly to Bradley. Kyle's eyes widened, however.

"Dude, I know that kid!"

"You do?" Bradley's own eyes grew wide.

"Yeah! We live in the same town! We go to school together!"

"Oh my God!" Bradley squeaked, pressing both hands to his mouth. "I-I thought that'd be the last I'd ever hear about him!"

"You want me to give you his address so you can write him?"

"I'd love you forever! --I mean, not like that but-- Oh my God!" Bradley's brain seemed to have shut down. Kyle only laughed and went to grab some paper and a pen. Fingers still stuffed in his mouth, Bradley's heart bubbled with more hope and happiness than it had ever done since Butters left.

_Butters…_

_/  
_


	7. Chapter 7

Criminally Vulgar

Chapter 7-

With thoughts of talking to Butters again popping constantly into Bradley's head, he found it hard to pay attention to most everything else; for not only did the idea generate happy, bubbly feelings, it also brought wild hopes of somehow becoming romantically involved with him, and with those hopes that familiar, bitter edge of guilt and shame. The messages that the counselors were intent on beating into their psyches were once again striking that fragile strain in his heart that desperately wanted to love and be loved, made even more tender by this renewed hope. Once again, simply hearing another speech on how God was repulsed by and hated how he felt almost reduced him to tears. _Just as I thought I'd hardened myself against being hurt this much by it, too._

About a week after receiving Butters' address from Kyle, the afternoon sermon happened to be an especially vituperous lecture on God's disgust for homosexuals. Bradley tried to let the words roll over him like a wave. He stared at the ground, feeling his bottom getting numb from the hard seat, he felt so heavy sitting there. The baritone voice of the preacher reverberated in his ears, and he couldn't force the words to become an intelligible murmur like he wanted them to. They were far too clear in his trembling mind:

"Homosexuality is an immoral act; it is a sin. Like any other sin, God hates it. Like any other sin, it corrupts the soul. Like any other sin, you will go to Hell for it. Romans 1:27 clearly states: 'Men committed indecent acts with other men and received in themselves the due penalty of their perversion'. And I say to you, if you do not repent, if you do not change, if you do not give yourself over to be cured of this most heinous disease, you also shall receive in yourselves the due penalty of your perversion."

It felt like a literal wound, like a knife had been plunged into the tense muscles of Bradley's heart, and he felt the blood seeping from it as it continued to beat wildly, nervously, ashamedly, painfully. Yes, there was the light-headed feeling of morphine rushing to the cut, only what could possibly cure the guilt entrenched in his soul by this "most heinous disease"? The familiar and terrifying feeling of helplessness, that nothing would ever fix him, washed over him. He tried frantically to check the tears and haggard breathing that already threatened to overtake him, clutching to the last vestiges of his pride, scarcely getting out of the chapel as fast as he'd have liked. All but running back to his dorm, he dashed inside, wobbling over to his bed as if he were about to collapse. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of creased paper, slightly dirty and crumpled from being kept in his jeans at all times. He unfolded the note to stare at the name and address penciled on it. Finally, the tears fell with a heaving sob.

_Butters Stotch  
1020 White Oak Ave.  
South Park, CO 80440_

He couldn't help the simultaneous floating and sinking feeling in his chest whenever he thought of the other boy. It would be like trying not to breathe. He'd hold it in until it showed, until it hurt, until he thought he'd die, but he couldn't help but enjoy the sweet, liberating taste of fresh air, even while he beat himself up over having been weak enough to take another breath. He felt his heart being pulled in two directions at once.

Through his crying, he didn't notice Finch slip in the door several minutes later. Letting the door close silently behind him, Finch watched his accountabilibuddy cry his heart out on his bunk, clutching the address of the boy he loved. The redhead's face was completely impassive except for his eyes. His eyes regarded Bradley with an understanding and sympathy that he had not even once shown since his arrival. As much as he tried to remain aloof from it all, Finch couldn't deny that in this moment, Bradley was an equal. He shared his suffering. He shared his confusion. He shared his secret pain and joys and guilts and tears because they were also his own. Just change the names to protect the innocent.

But what Bradley lacked now was strength and courage and reckless abandon. And that Finch could provide; but first, something they both wanted more than anything. He crossed the room to stand at the side of Bradley's bed.

"We missed you at dinner." Bradley jumped at Finch's voice so close. He sat up, hastily wiping the tears away, even as fresh ones took their place. Sobs still racked his body. The address had fluttered down to the spot on the mattress next to Bradley's knee. "Mind if I sit?" Bradley looked away, signaling his ambivalence on the issue, so Finch perched himself on the edge of the bed. Then he continued, softer and more gently than Bradley had ever heard him speak, "Look, I know I'm not the most devout person or anything, but I personally find it hard to believe that this God, maker of the universe, whose love preachers keep rambling on and on about really hates people for being gay. I mean, that would make him a hypocrite, wouldn't it? They keep on talking about how he loves everybody, right? So, wouldn't that mean he loves us, too?"

Bradley wouldn't be consoled so easily. "God may love us, but he hates and is saddened by what we do. By how we feel. By who we are. I just…" The sobs returned. "I'm tired of it. I'm tired of living a double life, I'm tired of feeling wrong and horrible and evil. I-I don't think there's any way to cure us, or help us, or anything. I really don't." Sniffles. Finch waited patiently. "I've felt this way a lot- actually most of my time here- but sometimes it just gets so overwhelming… I feel like there's no way out. …The last time I felt like that I tried jumping off the bridge just down the road. I almost did it, too. But then, Butters…" He hid his face and cried. Again, Finch waited; not contemptuously, not impatiently, just waited. A couple minutes later, Bradley calmed down enough to speak again. "That was right before he left. He gave his speech about how God loves homosexuals for who they are, and then he left. It almost seems like a dream now. I want to believe him, I really do. But then the counselors talk and…"

The two boys sat in silence for a minute as Bradley got his crying under control. Then, Finch spoke in his cool, low voice. "There's this guy who comes around our town every Halloween. We call him Devil Lad because of the mask he always wears trick-or-treating. I've known him for several years. He's probably the one person in the world who gets me the most. I'd never even seen his face. And then one day… I found myself falling in love with him. I thought I was crazy at first, and I tried to tell myself otherwise, but as time went by, it just became more and more clear that I loved him. I was afraid of how I felt, so I hid it deep within myself. It became the secret I vowed to myself I'd take to the grave. No one, not even Devil Lad himself- especially not Devil Lad himself- could know. I'd just have to deal with it on my own.

"And then I got sent here. I don't know why my mom decided this was for the best. I don't know if she knows, or if she guessed, or if someone else knew and told her, or guessed and told her, or anything. But as much as she wanted me rid of my crush on Devil Lad, this place has succeeded in doing two things." Bradley looked at Finch curiously, and Finch looked Bradley straight in the eye. "One- it's made me positive that this is _not_ how I'm going to live my life. In fear, in guilt, in shame. That's no way to live. And two- They're wrong. They keep telling us how _we're_ wrong, how _we_ need to be fixed, how _we_ inspire hatred and disgust. But to the best of my knowledge, none of us has ever inspired hated or disgust in others without them first seeking to have it inspired in themselves. _We_ never did anything but love, and love from afar. _They_ are the ones who've made every single person here hate them, and it's entirely their fault. They're bigoted, self-righteous assholes, and you're better than them. You don't deserve to bash yourself up." As Bradley stared at him in shock, Finch picked the paper up off the bed gingerly and held it out to him. "I think Butters was on to something." Bradley took the paper dazedly, and clutched it to his chest.

Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Kyle and Alex stepped in.

"Bradley? You okay? You didn't come to dinner," Kyle said. Bradley nodded mutely. Finch looked up at the other two.

"We were just talking about how this places sucks ass. Care to join us?" Alex caught a look in Finch's eye, and his brow furrowed.

"What're you thinking of…?"

"I, for one, can't take this camp anymore."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "So what do you suggest we do about it? Break out?" Finch's face betrayed no sign of jest. Kyle's face grew equally serious. "You're not _really_ thinking of breaking out." The statement asked for confirmation. Bradley turned to Finch.

"He's right. It's crazy. We'd never be able to do it. And assuming we did, where would we go? And how? We're pretty destitute, here."

"I was thinking that we walk home. That would be the final destination from this place, after all, right?"

Alex's jaw dropped. "That's insane! Finch, we live, like, a kajillion miles away! It was a two-day drive out here, man! We'd never make it!"

"Never say never. There are ways." His eyes narrowed at Alex, who shut up and appeared to be thinking long and hard over this. Finch turned to Kyle and Bradley. "And you guys don't live too far from here, right?"

"No, but that's beside the point," Kyle said. "We could never do it."

"What if I told you that I'd been planning for us four to escape for about two and a half weeks?"

"That's insane," Alex repeated weakly.

"Is it?" Finch asked. "I know every detail of every counselor shift of every day. I know when the most opportune moment is, and where to go to take advantage of it. We've got our youth, and we've got drive. And may I remind you of the alternative." He spread his arms wide, indicating the room, the camp, the torture they'd had to bear. Alex shifted his weight to one foot, grabbing his elbow with his hand.

"I'll go if you go, Finch."

"That's my Pig Pig."

"You guys, it'll never work," Bradley asserted, out of concern for the others' safety. He gave Kyle a pleading glance, asking for his backup. Kyle, however, took a good look around the room and sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Tell me exactly how this plan of yours works." Finch smirked.

"Gentlemen, we would leave tomorrow evening at eight."  
/


	8. Chapter 8

Criminally Vulgar

Chapter 8-

Through the following day, none of the four boys were at ease: Finch because he kept a paranoid watch for counselors who might have possibly caught on to their plan; Kyle because he was still running the escape route through his mind, trying to find any flaws that may be exposed in the actual breakout; Alex because he still wasn't sure about this being such a good idea; and Bradley because he couldn't convince the other three that it wasn't going to work and was afraid for them. Finch, however, reassured them over and over in husky whispers that he knew what he was doing, and that the proposed time of escape was the absolute only way to get out with any real chance of success. Bradley, still the skeptic, always whispered back, "What if something goes wrong? What if a counselor comes along when you're making a break for it?"

"What if you were stuck here and didn't do anything to try to help your situation?" Finch would answer.

"Getting caught and sent back won't do anything to help the situation- it'll only make things much, much worse."

"So, what, we stay here for months? Years? Indefinitely?"

"I've been here a long time," Bradley said heavily.

"And so far nothing has changed. You know, only crazy people do the same things over and over and expect different results."

"You're the crazy one!" Then, an abrupt stop in conversation. Getting too heated, it'll look suspicious. The counselors' eyes burn into their backs. They try to eat their lunches calmly, even though they could hardly swallow for their hearts in their throats.

Coast clear. Bradley continued. "Look, there's no way they can turn us straight. I know that. You know that. But _they_ don't have to know that."

Kyle caught on. "So then, we just _act_ straight?" Bradley nodded.

Finch would have none of it. "You'd rather hide? And lie? That's so unlike you, St. Piety."

"I know. But it's the only choice I've got- the only realistic one, anyway."

"And what if you can't pull it off? What if you get caught?" There he goes, twisting Bradley's own word back at him.

"I have to try."

"Then you should know how I feel." He spoke as if he'd won the debate. Bradley opened his mouth to counter, but Alex held a hand between him and Finch.

"As iffy as I am on Finch's idea, I have to agree with him there. You know how much they'd expect us to change? Like, 340 degrees!"

"360," Kyle and Finch corrected. Alex paid them no mind.

"We'd never be able to do it, man. _I'd_ never be able to do it. You seen me when they made me spill that I was bi-curious. I seen _you_ when they preach fire and brimstone." Bradley flinched, a reflex almost instinctive by now. "See?"

"I'd rather just play it safe and show them what the want to see and tell them what they want to hear."

"Fine. Then stay. Just don't stop those of us who are willing to take our chances." Bradley's eyes flitted between the table and Finch's face, breath hovering, ready to speak, but he closed his mouth and was silent. He didn't know how he could keep such a promise with clear conscience (thus he didn't actually affirm the oath), but he did realize that nothing he had said thus far had swayed them. He would keep his tongue for now, until he thought up some new argument. He just prayed that it came to him in time.

The minutes slipped away slower and slower, it seemed, as the sun began to sink from the sky, and the campers were called to dinner. The moment was nearing. The four boys ate in silence, except for a few odd responses to outsiders' requests for salt or ketchup. Only once did Bradley break the quiet.

"Last Supper," he muttered. Outwardly, his comrades seemed unaffected by his remark, but it echoed in their hearts.

At cleanup, Finch looked the others in the eyes, including Bradley. "Eight o'clock. We meet beforehand. The usual." He meant, of course, regrouping in his and Bradley's dorm room, as they were accustomed to doing after dinner. Nothing far from ordinary, nothing that would draw undue attention. Bradley chewed on his bottom lip, his mind churning to come up with the brilliant argument that would appeal to their logic, because honestly, what they were planning to do was just insane. Surely they could see that and anticipate the consequences?

But even as the door swung open to admit Alex and Kyle into the dorm, Bradley could think of nothing he hadn't said before. The same reasons tumbled around his mind, and he sat mutely on his bed, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching as Finch went over the procedure once more. They checked the clock on the wall nervously, impatiently, and finally Finch said, "Get ready." Bradley could keep silent no longer.

"You can't _leave_!"

Finch answered without turning from the door. "The hell we can't."

"They won't let you leave."

"We'll see about that." How could he sound so calm? Frustration welled up in Bradley, and his voice rose along with it.

"Can't you see it's not going to work? People have tried before, and they've all failed. Changing is the only option we have."

Kyle spoke up. "We can't change. You said that yourself."

"Well, we have to _try_ to change!"

"Why," Alex asked.

"Because if we don't…" Bradley's near-yelling broke off, replaced with a soft, wavering voice, "We're going to Hell."

Finch turned to face Bradley, his face serious and sure as his voice. The response was clear and fairly quiet, but its magnitude multiplied in the silence. "This _is_ hell." They held each others' gazes for a while longer, Finch's steady, Bradley's afraid and unsure. Then, without another gesture, Finch turned back to the door. "It's time." Alex and Kyle looked back at Bradley uncertainly, still affected by leaving him behind. Finch turned the knob and slipped out into the hallway. Alex followed faithfully. Kyle, however, peered over his shoulder to smile faintly at Bradley.

"Bye." The door shut behind him, muffling the sound of their footfalls in the empty corridor. Bradley desperately tried to make sense of the chaos in his mind and heart. In his confusion, he habitually brought his hand up to his mouth, but the motion sent something from his pocket fluttering to the ground. Bradley knew what it was, even before his fingers picked it up from the floor. Butters' words of encouragement mingled with Finch's, and Bradley clutched the paper determinedly, standing and shoving it safely into the depth of his pocket once more. He could still hear the shuffle of his friends' footsteps down the hall. Hurrying to the door, he swung it open and sprinted after them, not looking back once.

//


	9. Musing

Criminally Vulgar- Musing

A/N: Hello there. So, a lot of reviewers have been begging me to write more. One problem though- chapter 8 was where the main body of CV ends! I know, the suspense never resolved! But, friends from DeviantArt convinced me to do four companion one-shots for each boy's respective crush, so that's what I have done. Here's the first of the four companion pieces! Enjoy!

Oh, one more thing: The character Zndy mentioned in passing belongs to my friend Muffin-McPhee. As one of the main catalysts for this one-shot, I thought I'd include her OC, the stepsister of Mr. Kitty, called by his real name here.

--

Musing

Spencer was sitting in his room again, bored out of his mind. Maybe this "being alone" thing wasn't so great, after all. As impossible as it seemed, he had actually grown tired of looking at porn all day. How long had it been now? A week? Two, since Finch left, but only a week in complete separation from his crew. How long till they'd finally bust out? How far away was that place, anyway? Camp New Grace. The largest gay conversion camp anywhere nearby. The question still echoed in his mind: why the fuck had Finch and Pig Pig been sent there? There was no reason for it, he told himself, but even as he thought it, he didn't really believe it. But neither did he want to truly admit it. He was caught by a loop of denial, yet he couldn't stop asking himself. So round and round he went. Over and over. Day after day.

He looked around his room, faintly disgusted by the sight he was met with. Who knew he depended so much on his friends to keep him going that without them, he degenerated into a lethargic mess of self-pity, wallowing in dirty laundry, plates of stale macaroni, and Playstation equipment? He picked his old comfort, a small red rubber ball, from a pile of racy magazines and began tossing it against the wall rhythmically. _Thump. Thump. Thump._ Relieving his restless energy, he let his mind wander back to its usual circuit: why had Finch been sent away to Camp New Grace?

The image of Devil Lad flashed in his mind briefly before being pushed away out of habit. Then, habit backed down and let logic think through things clearly- and they made sense. The way Finch acted around him, the way he talked about him, the way he was almost dogmatic in his search for him every Halloween- Finch was in love with Devil Lad. This time, even habit didn't balk. It just made sense.

Then his mind circled around to Pig Pig. What about him? Why was he sent to a gay conversion camp? Did that mean he was gay, too?

He sure acted gay sometimes, Spencer thought. Pig Pig was such a wuss. Then he stopped himself. No, being a wuss was not a prerequisite for being gay, and being gay wasn't a prerequisite for being a wuss. He'd already established that Pig Pig was a wuss. But was he gay in conjunction? Spencer mulled the possibility over, continuing the rubber ball's circuit from his hand to the wall and back. He wasn't all that attracted to girls, but then he didn't really show signs of liking guys, either. He couldn't be asexual, could he? The apparent complexity frustrated Spencer. This was _Pig Pig_. He shouldn't be this hard to figure out. For God's sake, Pig Pig spent almost every waking moment with him!

Spencer froze, and the ball whizzed past his head, just barely grazing his hair. What if Pig Pig liked him? His heart beat loudly as it dawned on him. Yes, Pig Pig liked him, at least enough to hang around him. Finch was considerably more civil to Pig Pig than he was, so he must be attracted to him to willingly subject himself to Spencer's teasing. And he was subjected to it all the time. By choice. So either he liked him, or he was masochist; but Pig Pig was a wuss, so he has to like him. Pig Pig liked him.

Why the fuck was his heart beating so fast? Spencer rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. If Zndy ever found out about this, he'd never hear the end of it. She'd probably write those stories of hers about it. Wait, scratch that- she already did write stories about them. So she'd probably try to set them up and catch it on film to sell to the entire school during lunch. Maybe she'd even try to get him sent to gay camp, too, and have the house to herself- plus Spike. But he didn't put it past her, and it sounded like the crazy-ass thing she's use to blackmail him with.

Of course, if her dad knew that she was writing erotic stories about girls, she'd be screwed herself…


	10. Admission

Criminally Vulgar- Admission

A/N: Here's the second of the four companion one-shots, this time featuring Devil Lad! Enjoy!

--

Admission

There had been something strange about Finch last October 31st; there had been for a couple years now. Devil Lad knew that, but he had never allowed himself to think too hard on the whys of the matter. Too likely that he'd get his hopes up, only to be crushed by brutal reality.

But now, word on the street was that Finch had landed himself in a gay conversion camp. It was almost ironic, how Devil Lad had seen this coming on some level deep inside him.

Finch would hate that he knew, for seemingly no reason, that he'd been sent there, too. Devil Lad had his sources.

So, what. Finch was gay? _Oh, that's nice_, Devil Lad thought sarcastically, even as his heart felt like it had both completely shut down and run to the moon and back. There were those damn hopes again, bubbling up in his chest and filling his head with improbable fantasies. Even if Finch _was_ gay, there was no guarantee that he would like _him_, of all people. They only saw each other once a year. There were plenty of other guys in Turgid Meadows, in the neighboring towns, in the world. Besides, there was a chance that the whole thing was a misunderstanding- shit was known to happen around those parts, especially to Finch and his friends. There was no reason to get all excited just because Finch was in some gay camp.

That was what he told himself, anyway. But he could hardly help the fluttering of his heart at the possibility. The optimistic part of him whispered in his ear, "He likes you best- can't you see that he prefers your company to Mr. Kitty's or Pig Pig's? He likes you best, he likes you best, he likes you." As much as his logic (or cynicism) resisted it, that same level that knew all along that Finch was gay knew that the annoying voice was right. Look at how he's acted around you, look at what he's said about you. _Look at where he is now because of it._ He likes you, Devil Boy.

Devil Lad smirked. He could just see Finch sitting in front of a balding priest yelling at him about how he's going to hell.

Fine. Come and get me. I'm yours.


	11. Longing

Criminally Vulgar- Longing

A/N: This one's for Stan. It finally actually looks like a real SP fic! xD

--

Longing

_Hey, God. It's me, Stan. I don't know if it's too much to ask but… could you please bring Kyle back soon?_

"Ay, Stan!"

_Oh, and let me not totally kill Cartman…_  
Stan stared straight ahead into the snow piling up on the other side of the bus stop. "What." The other boy came up next to him, eyeing him.

"So… any news…?"

"About what," Stan said flatly, still staring ahead. He really wasn't in the mood for Cartman's games.

"You know… About Kyle. How's the ol' boy doing these days?" Stan sighed. Cartman asked the same thing yesterday. And the day before that. And pretty much every day since Kyle left.

"Cartman, you _know_ the answer. You ask me _every day_." Cartman's face fell.

"Fine. Be that way. Take all the fun out of everything. You know, I really don't see why you have to be so negative, Stan. Things really aren't as bad as you make them out to be. Maybe if you looked on the bright side a little, you'd find that the world is rather… gay."

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to reign in his frustration. "Cartman…" he warned.

"_Kyle_ knew how to look on the sunny side. To him, the world must have seemed _very_ gay." _Dear God, let me not kill Cartman, let me not strangle him right now…_

"So gay, in fact, that—"

_On second thought, you can strike him down now._

"_Jesus Christ_, Cartman, can't you just leave it alone?!" Cartman was taken aback by Stan's sudden outburst. "All you've been doing since Kyle got sent to that stupid camp is make cracks about how gay he is!"

"But dude, he totally is. And so are you."

"_No_, we're _not_!!"

A muffled voice came from behind Stan. "Dude, you're not?"

"See?" Cartman pointed an emphatic finger at the new arrival. "Even Kenny knows that you two are gay homosexuals! Isn't that right, Kenny?"

"Yeah, dude, you guys _totally_ dig each other," Kenny replied loftily; like it was obvious. It made Stan's blood boil. He backed up to the bus as it rolled to a stop.

"Fine! Fine- you know what? You guys can go take a flying fuck! See if I care!" He threw his arms up in exasperation and stormed up the steps, disappearing behind the frosted windows. Kenny and Cartman still stood in the snow, watching the blurry poof of his hat take a seat in the back of the bus.

"He's not taking this separation very well," Cartman said.

"Nope. Poor guy," Kenny said, and followed Cartman into the bus.

The bus roared before jerking into motion, jostling Stan quite a bit as it bumped down the road. The movement gave him a sense of being, even as his mind and heart felt miles away.

_Dear God, please bring Kyle back soon. I don't care how gay it sounds- I miss him so much. So much…_


	12. Epiphany

Criminally Vulgar- Epiphany

A/N: This is the last of it, the actual end! Yes. I know the last line practically begs for an actual BradleyxButters sequel to be made, but right now, I have other projects I'm overdue on... But if anyone else wants to do it, go ahead- just tell me so I can read it, please. :D

--

Epiphany

The bus dropped the South Park kids off at the usual stop, and the bundled-up children began trekking home in the snow. Cartman and Kenny had gone off to play Game Sphere without Stan, who just wanted to go home. It was the perfect time to ask, and Butters was dying to know. He came up beside the other boy.

"Hey there, Stan!"

"Oh. Hey, Butters." Stan sounded as dejected as he had in class. Butters' brow creased with worry.

"Where's Kyle? Is he sick?"

"Why does everyone suddenly care so much about what happened to Kyle?" Stan snapped. Butters fidgeted.

"Eric was sayin'…"

"I know what Cartman's saying, okay? He's being a dick, like always."

"O-Oh…" Stan started to walk faster, but Butters trailed behind him. "Well, it's just that a little while ago, Kyle's mom came and talked to my mom, and now Kyle's not at school, so…" Stan stopped and turned to him.

"Look, it's really none of your business, and I really don't want to talk about it."

"I-I know. But, it's really not that bad there, Stan, honest. And I'm sure he'll be back real soon."

Stan sighed and began walking again. As they came to Butters' house, the blonde boy started heading up the driveway, but Stan chewed his lip and looked at him like he wanted to say something.

"Butters… What if Kyle _is_ gay?" Butters looked at him. "I mean, I'd have no problem with it, but his mom's so anal- and my mom- What if we can never sleep over anymore? Or hang out like we used to? …Hello?" He added this last question at Butters' odd glance. Butters blinked.

"What does Kyle being gay have to do with anything?" Stan blinked back.

"Dude… That's what Camp New Grace _is_. A gay conversion camp."

Butters' eyes grew wide as the pieces finally began to come together. He heard the front door open, and his mother called out.

"Butters! You have a letter from one of your little friends from camp!"

// END


End file.
